


Drafts

by cemetrygatess



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Drafts, Epistolary, Letters, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Canon Cardassia, Sweet, Warm, Yearning, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:05:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27260143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cemetrygatess/pseuds/cemetrygatess
Summary: It’s easy to say what you feel. It’s harder to press send.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 22
Kudos: 126





	Drafts

Doctor — 

I won't have anything as paltry as acquaintanceship with you. It's too measly even for me. I have survived on the crumbs of your affection for over a decade. Your occasional letter is the worst form of punishment, a continuous reminder of the distance between us. As such I have no choice but to terminate our correspondence. I hope you can respect my wishes. 

Elim Garak

_Draft automatically saved_

  
  
  


Doctor —

Have you thought about visiting Cardassia? It's beautiful in the springtime. The orchids in my garden are blooming and I like to think they're thinking of you just as much as I am. My house is small, and accommodations may be lacking, but everything that is mine is yours. I just want to have 

_Draft automatically saved_

Dr. Bashir, 

Kira mentioned things ended with you and Dax. You had stopped mentioning her, and I wondered if it was for my benefit. I should say I’m sorry things didn’t work out. I should say you’ll find another girl. However, I’m not feeling that generous. It was only hope, only joy I felt when Kira said things had ended with you two. And then a despair, that you had not told me for nearly a month. Imagine, doctor, my poor heart in all this. I torture myself in secret with thoughts of you. Well not so secret, Dr. Parmak has certainly figured the measure of it by now. 

_Draft automatically saved_

Julian, 

My new job has been keeping me incredibly busy. As a result my replies to your letters are likely to shorten or even stop. This is a pragmatic decision that is not based on anything you have done. Your letters are as usual enjoyable but 

_Draft automatically saved_

  
  


My Dear Julian, 

How is it that at council meetings, in the luls (and there are plenty) my mind always goes to you? I find myself wondering if your mind ever wanders to me. Perhaps you are too focused on your research. Such single minded devotion is perfectly laudable, almost properly Cardassian, but then if you say you do not think of me I shall hate you. Just for a moment, and then I will love you again, and be filled with such mounting despair. Not that 

_Draft automatically saved_

Dr. Bashir, 

I’ve been feeling very ill lately. I should appreciate the attention of a physician of renown. My symptoms

_Draft automatically saved_

My Dear Doctor, 

Can I still call you that? Would you stop writing me if I started to tell you how I miss you? How I miss the way your eyes shine when you’re talking about some medical jargon beyond my comprehension or interest? Would you ignore it if I mentioned I always wondered how your hair felt? I always wondered how you tasted. How would your mouth taste? How would your chest taste? How would your groin taste? Would you stop writing if I asked? Or would

_Draft automatically saved_

Doctor, 

There's no point in telling you. None at all. Even if by some miracle you felt a fraction of what I feel for you, the distance makes it impractical. What? Give up your Starfleet commission? You would never and I would never ask that of you. And you know I can't leave Cardassia now. Can we be star crossed lovers if we were never lovers? In my head you kissed me on the promenade in front of everyone. In my head you pulled me into your quarters and we were each other's dirty little secret. But it's a dream, an idle fantasy. I won't stop the miracle physician Dr. Bashir from saving the galaxy. I flatter myself to suggest it's even a possibility. In all likelihood declarations from me would not meaningfully alter your plans. But then for a minute, I imagine they would, and it fills me with a savage and ragged hope. 

_Draft automatically saved_

Julian —

Today I cannot shake the feeling that you knew. You always knew how I felt, did you not? You knew what our lunches meant to me, and you entertained and pacified me. I was a passing amusement or perhaps an object of pity, or if we’re being very generous, a friend. But you knew. You never said anything. Out of kindness of course. You were always so kind. But then pity is rather unkind in it’s way. I cannot reconcile this unkindness. 

_Draft automatically saved_

J. B. —

I can’t stop thinking about that book you gave me years ago, _Persuasion_. Do you remember I said I hated it? I lied. I read it often. When Wenworth drops his pen, so overpowered by feelings he cannot write… I imagine it is I writing and you speaking. I imagine you saying humans love the longest, even when there is no hope. It takes everything in me not to bite my tongue off, for I should want to exclaim that I have not wavered in loving you for nearly eight years. It is a torment with no end in sight, but even without hope I cannot wish to stop loving you. 

E. G. 

_Draft automatically saved_

Julian, 

I’ve never told you this, and I never will, but it used to fill me with such rage the way people treated you. I understood so quickly that you were more than a bit of pleasurable company, and yet it seemed to take some of your insipid coworkers years to realize what I knew all along. How dare they be annoyed by your passion and exuberance. How dare they treat you like that. I suspect now you never have these problems. Time has polished you, and made you more likable to some no doubt. And I am glad you are finally getting your due. But it’s just that I always liked you and I always 

_Draft automatically saved_

Dr. Julian Bashir, 

A full year has passed here on Cardassia and I must admit your letters are too infrequent for my taste. They are always long and considered and full of interesting observations, but they have the unfortunate quality of coming only every other week. I always start to get itchy with anticipation when I have not heard from you for a week and a half. I believe this feeling could be prevented if you would consider writing every week instead. 

_Draft automatically saved_

  
  


***

Garak paced his office, a nervous energy had been radiating through him nearly 4 days now. Ever since the glitch, he could not sit still. All his drafts were sent in one moment. It was mortifying! What an idiot’s gambit to write such sentiments to begin with, let alone to save them somewhere they could readily be sent. In time, he would need to investigate if this was truly a computer error, or if someone had acted maliciously. He already had new enemies in the new government. 

Regardless of intent, this is what he deserved. He had made himself exploitable, first by having the sentiment and then again by committing it to writing. It was incredibly foolish. Really if one was to proclaim their love they wanted to do it right, not through half a hundred half written letters, filled with dripping sentiment. 

Julian had certainly already received these sentiments, and no reply had been forthcoming. Garak considered writing some sort of explanation, to apologize for the grossness of it, but he found he could not. So he let his hands shake and he waited. 

On the sixth day he finally received a reply.   
  
  
  


Elim —

How should I know what my own mouth tastes like? Of all the questions, Elim… It seems there are things that letters cannot say or know. I’ll be on Cardassia in nine days, you’ll have to describe the flavor to me then. 

Yours,

Julian

**Author's Note:**

> Work has been crazy so this tiny work is all I've had time for of late. It's nothing particularly innovative, but I hoped you enjoyed it all the same. Comments and kudos are a lovely distraction from *gestures broadly*


End file.
